Severus Spike
by Shagbark
Summary: As Harry descended the stairs to the dungeon, he fumed again at Headmistress Sparkle for not finding somepony, anypony, other than Professor Spike to teach him occlumency. The dragon wasn't just twisted and cruel - he was dangerous. Why was she the only pony who couldn't see that?


Spike's office door banged open and a smaller dragon sped in. "Professor Spike, sir - oh - sorry -" Malfeasance looked at Spike and Harry in surprise.

"Well, what is it?" asked Spike. "Trotter is here for a little remedial dragon magic."

"They've found Hoofbert, sir, he's turned up jammed inside a stall on the fourth floor."

"Very well, Trotter," said Spike, "we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening."

He turned and swept from his office. Malfeasance mouthed, "Remedial dragon magic?" at Harry behind Spike's back before following him.

Harry looked over his withers, his heart pumping hard and fast. He walked to the Pensieve on Spike's desk and stood over it, gazing into its depths. He hesitated, listening. The office and the corridor beyond were silent. He gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of his horn.

The silvery stuff within began to swirl very fast. Harry leaned forwards over it and saw it had become transparent. He was looking down onto a street… in fact, he was looking down onto Main Street in Canterlot.

He took a great gulp of air, and plunged his face into the surface of Spike's thoughts. At once, the floor of the office lurched, tipping Harry head-first into the Pensieve…

And the first thing he saw was his father.

It was as though he were looking at himself, but with deliberate mistakes. The prince's eyes were blue, and there was no star on his forehead; but they had the same long face, same flawless white coat; the prince's mane flopped between his eyes exactly as Harry's did.

"I'm bored," said Hoity-Toity.

"This may interest you," said Prince Blueblood quietly. "Look who it is…"

Hoity-Toity's head turned. He became still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. "Oh, excellent," he said softly.

Harry turned to see what they were looking at. And there he was, walking down the path towards them. Harry stared. Spike-the-teenager had a naive, trusting look, like a foal.

"How are you today, Spikey-wikey?" said the prince loudly.

"Uh... fine, I guess," Spike replied uncertainly.

"I don't think that's the correct answer," the prince responded.

"It isn't? I think I feel fine..." Spike raised a claw to feel his forehead.

"I think," Prince Bluebood said, "you meant to say, I'm fine, _your highness_."

"How would you know that?" Spike asked, puzzled.

Hoity-Toity let out a whinny. The Prince's horn glowed with a blue light, and Spike was unceremoniously hauled into the air by his tail, so that he was hanging upside down in the middle of the street. A yo-yo and a ruby fell out of his vest pockets onto the cobblestones. Several ponies watching laughed.

"Leave him ALONE!"

Blueblood and Fancy-Pants looked round. Blueblood immediately turned his attention to straightening - and then slightly dishevelling - his mane.

It was a unicorn mare. She was almost as pure white as the prince, with three blue diamonds for her cutie mark, and a thick, curled violet mane that fell past her shoulders, and startlingly blue eyes - Harry's eyes.

Harry's mother.

"Is everything all right, Miss Rarity?" said the prince, his was suddenly pleasant, and deeper.

"Leave him alone," Rarity repeated. She was looking at the prince with every sign of great dislike.

"I might... for a kiss," said Blueblood. "One little kiss and I'll never point my horn at old Spikey again."

"I would rather kiss a diamond dog," said Rarity. But she looked at Spike, hanging in the air, and her eyebrows rose in worry, and then fell in resignation.

Spike, still hanging upside-down, called out, "No, Rarity - don't!" But she was looking at Blueblood, the way a pony might look at a predator, and took a hesitant step towards him. Spike took a deep breath, looked away, and said as loudly as he could, "I don't need help from a FILLY!"

Rarity blinked.

"Fine," she said coolly. "I won't bother in the future, Spike. And as for you - " - she turned to the prince - "messing up your hair because you think it looks cool, abusing anyone who annoys you just because you can - You make me SICK." She turned and trotted away.

Spike crashed to the street as Blueblood turned to watch her go. "Rarity!" the prince whinnied after her.

But she didn't look back.

"How does a mare with such sartorial taste have such poor taste in love?" said Blueblood casually, as though the question were of no importance to him.

"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited," said Hoity-Toity.

"I see," said Blueblood, who looked furious, and alarmingly calm. He bent his head downward, eyes narrowed, and snorted softly. Then he whipped his head around, and his horn glowed, and Spike was once again hoisted into the air. "Who wants to see a dragon dance?" he asked the onlookers.

Suddenly Harry felt himself rising into the air; the summer's day evaporated around him; he was floating upwards through icy blackness, a claw tight upon his upper foreleg with a pincer-like grip. Then his hooves hit the stone floor of Spike's lair and he was standing again beside the Pensieve on Spike's desk in the shadowy, present-day dragon magic master's study.

'So," said Spike, gripping Harry's foreleg so tightly it was starting to feel numb. "Been enjoying yourself, Trotter?'

'N-no," said Harry.

Spike's jaw quivered, his teeth were bared, and his eyes were cold and intense. "Amusing pony, your father, wasn't he?" he said, shaking Harry so hard his glasses slipped down his nose.

"I - didn't -"

Spike threw Harry from him with all his considerable might. Harry fell hard onto the floor.

"You will not repeat what you saw to anypony!" Spike bellowed, and green flames licked at Harry's mane.

"No," said Harry, getting to his feet as far from Spike as he could. "No, of course I w-"

"Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!"

And as Harry hurtled towards the door, a jar of something black and powdery exploded over his head. He ran out the open door and galloped along the corridor, stopping only when he had put three archways between himself and Spike. There he leaned against the wall, panting, and rubbing his bruised leg.


End file.
